Choices
by Brummie10
Summary: ***SPOILERS*** Season4 finale & first casting call for Season5. Potential Season 5 Premiere: this story recaps the last scene from Season4 and moves it forward to a possible conclusion. All reviews welcome!
1. Chapter 1

_*****POSSIBLE SPOILERS (SEASON 4 FINALE; 1**__**st**__** CASTING CALL FOR SEASON 5)*****_

_I don't own any of the CM characters; can only wish that I did. _

_Thanks to B for the suggestions, comments & editing... and of course, to the character of Hotch.  
_

**Choices**

Standing at the tiny wet bar of his otherwise dark and sparsely furnished apartment, SSA Aaron Hotchner sighed softly as he poured a finger of scotch into a glass. He was utterly exhausted, mentally and physically, from the horrific pig-farm case in Canada. Having removed the gun and holster from his hip and placed them on the kitchen table, he was now ready for a drink.

He had taken a first sip and the glass was halfway to his lips for a second when he felt a presence. Instinct identified the black-hooded, masked intruder behind him. Hotch's face registered momentary surprise, recognition, fear and resignation before he pulled himself together. He was all-too aware of the Boston Reaper's profile and he certainly wasn't about to give the serial killer the satisfaction of seeing him afraid.

Even as he heard the 'click' of the gun's safety being removed, the agent didn't flinch. Instead, he pasted a look of defiance on his face, squared his shoulders and turned to face his nemesis.

"You should have taken the deal." hissed George Foyet, face hidden behind the smooth, expressionless black mask.

He was standing directly in front of Hotch, gun levelled at the Unit Chief's head. Hotch said nothing. He simply continued to stare directly into the Reaper's eyes. The two men glared at each other for a split second then...

*BANG!*

***

George Foyet smiled triumphantly and put his Desert Eagle into a pocket in his sweatshirt. He looked at the agent lying sprawled on his back on the floor surrounded by broken glass and scotch from his unfinished drink.

Blood soaked through Hotchner's white dress shirt and dark brown suit jacket. He had reached for his chest as he fell in a vain attempt to staunch the steady stream of blood coming from his right breast; his left hand now rested limply on his stomach where it had slipped off the wound when he had lost consciousness. His right arm lay by his side; he had tried to lean against the wet-bar on his way down but instead had simply collapsed.

Foyet dug into another pocket and retrieving its contents, placed them into Hotch's right hand, forcing the fingers closed around the solid, shiny object. Grinning, he bent over the injured man and put two fingers against his neck feeling for a pulse. It was hard to find and the agent's breath was coming in short, shallow gasps.

"Not long now, Agent Hotchner." he murmured in satisfaction.

He loosened Hotch's tie and unceremoniously yanked his trophy from its owner. He heard a weak, painful moan and chuckled. He sat back on his haunches, ready to watch his latest victim bleed to death. He wanted to be sure. And it would make up for the disappointment of Hotchner showing no fear, only defiance at his end.

However, Foyet's vigil was interrupted by a sudden commotion in the hallway. There was a loud knock on the front door and the knob rattled as someone tried it from the outside.

"Aaron?! Aaron, are you alright?! It's Greg from next door... We thought we heard a gunshot and wanted to make sure everything's okay?!"

Swearing softly, Foyet knew he needed to make his exit. He flipped off the light on the wet-bar, plunging the apartment into total darkness and slipped quietly into a bedroom and out the open window. The Agent didn't have long; it would be stupid to get caught now.

Having received no reply, Greg acted on instinct and kicked down the door. He had heard his neighbour come home only minutes earlier, too soon to have gone to bed. He paused on the threshold, knowing that he could be in danger too.

"Aaron?" he called out. From the light coming from the hallway, Greg could just make out the shadowy outline of a couch in front of him, but nothing more. "Aaron?" he repeated, stepping inside and leaving the door open.

Silence.

Greg took out his cell phone and punched 9-1-1. Thumb resting on 'send', he cautiously moved past the living-room toward the back of the apartment, ears straining for any sound of an intruder and his free hand feeling for obstacles. It was pitch black. Suddenly, Greg's shoe found something sticky on the floor. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Greg realized in horror that he'd come upon a body, one he recognized as Aaron Hotchner. His thumb pushed the green button as he first turned on a light and then bent down over his neighbour, desperate to find signs of life.

"9-1-1, please state your emergency..."

"My name is Greg Simpson and I need an ambulance and the police! My next-door neighbour has been shot... he's an FBI agent... it looks bad, there's blood everywhere..."

"Sir, stay calm. Are you in any danger?"

"I dunno... I don't think so..."

"Give me your address please, Sir."

Greg rattled off the address, screamed for his girlfriend, who he then sent for a towel to press against Aaron's chest. They left the connection to Emergency Services open while assessing the fallen man.

"Greg, he's not breathing..." said Kelsey Adams shakily.

Greg took a deep breath, trying to remember the CPR training he'd had in University a good ten years earlier.

"Keep applying pressure!" he ordered. "We've got to try to keep him alive until the paramedics get here!"

He tilted the agent's head back and gave him two breaths. His fingers moved to Hotch's neck.

"Still has a pulse, thank god. Doing rescue breathing..."

Minutes later two policemen rushed into the room, followed closely by two paramedics carrying a stretcher. The officers secured the rest of the apartment while the medics took over the patient.

"Pulse weak and getting fainter." muttered the first EMT, removing his fingers from Hotch's neck. He ripped open the white dress shirt and after putting a large dressing over the wound, applied defibrillator pads to the chest.

Meanwhile, the second medic had already inserted a tube into the agent's throat, attached a breathing bag and was continuing to ventilate the unresponsive man.

"Let's get him on the gurney, Barry, and check to see if it's a through-and-through."

They rolled the injured man carefully onto the stretcher.

"No exit wound Eric." said Barry grimly. "We'd better hurry; he's going to have massive internal bleeding. I'll get a line in as we go."

The paramedics nodded to the policemen, who were now interviewing Greg and Kelsey and rushed the gurney out of the building and into the waiting ambulance just as Hotch's heart began to fail.

"He's going into v-tac, step on it!" cried Barry, punching the shock button on the defibrillator to administer life-saving current and watching grimly as the man's back arched and fell back on the stretcher. The screen that usually showed heart beats registered only a flat line...

***

**Hillside Hospital****, DC**

ER Surgeon Dr. Nigel Barton studied the myriad of screens above his patient. Satisfied that the man's life had temporarily been saved, he left the ICU to meet with the family.

Having been in surgery for the best part of six hours, he was surprised to see the large number of tired and anxious-looking faces that turned when he walked into the waiting room.

"Aaron Hotchner?" he called.

Four men and four women rose almost as one and approached the doctor.

"You're ALL family?" he asked dubiously.

A tall blond man stepped forward. "I'm Sean Hotchner, Aaron's brother. These people are Aaron's colleagues and mother of his son. We just want to know if he's okay..?"

The doctor wiped his still-sweating forehead. "Aaron is alive. That may not sound like much but it was, and still is, extremely touch and go. Your brother is in exceptionally critical condition. The blood loss was tremendous and we've had to restart his heart twice."

The tension in the room was palpable.

"The bullet entered the chest on the right side. It ricocheted off a rib and is lodged against his heart. Furthermore, a piece of the rib broke off and partially penetrated the right lung. We've re-inflated it but have put Aaron on a ventilator to ease his work of breathing."

David Rossi was frowning heavily. "Doctor, you said 'is' when referring to the bullet. You didn't remove it?"

Dr. Barton shook his head. "We couldn't. Aaron was too unstable. We only just managed to stop the bleeding and repair the damage to the lung, both of which were considerable. Before we attempt to go back in we need Mr. Hotchner to be stronger because we may need to do something equating to coronary bypass surgery to remove the bullet. So for right now the priority is to replace his blood volume and reduce the risk of shock the best we can. I have to be honest with you... I don't think he will survive another crash..."

The BAU team members looked at each other in total disbelief. It all seemed unreal. Only hours before they had all been together, taking some comfort in each other's presence as they flew back from one of the most horrific cases in recent memory. How could this have happened?

"I'm sorry that the news isn't better. But he IS alive, which is a major miracle and testament to his desire to fight for his life."

"Can I see him?" asked Sean, running his hands shakily through his hair.

"Of course, I'll take you to him." Dr. Barton looked at the group. "But please limit visitors to immediate family only and just one at a time. Aaron needs complete rest. With the bullet resting against his heart, we have to keep him sedated so that he doesn't move unnecessarily and remains calm. The next 24-48 hours will be critical; we're got a constant watch on him so that we can operate the minute his vital signs are strong enough to handle the procedure."

JJ asked the question that no one else dared: "What happens if he doesn't seem to make any improvement after 48 hours?"

The doctor sighed wearily. "Then we'll have to go back in and take our chances. The bullet is pressing against the heart; it can't be left there indefinitely since it will disrupt the heart's normal function and eventually cause a massive heart attack... I'm truly sorry that I can't be more positive."

Sean, eyes moist, clenched his jaw and followed the doctor towards the ICU. Garcia began to cry and was hugged by JJ. Reid fidgeted nervously while Rossi looked stunned. Haley sat alone in a corner, silent tears sliding down her cheeks as she wrestled with the dilemma of when/if to bring Jack to his father's bedside. Only Prentiss and Morgan seemed to be able to digest the full extent of the evening's events and keep their heads.

Emily raised an eyebrow at Derek; they both looked over at Dave.

"Rossi, we can't just sit here! We need to find whoever did this!" growled Morgan.

Dave shook himself back to reality and nodded in agreement. Attempting to put aside his worry for his friend, he took charge knowing the team needed his leadership.

"Morgan, Prentiss, why don't you go to Hotch's apartment and see what you can find out from the scene and the officers. Talk to the neighbours who found him. Don't take 'no' for an answer, I'll take whatever fallout from Strauss. JJ, go with them and try to keep the press at bay. We don't need the unsub knowing Hotch is still alive."

"Reid, Garcia... I need you back at Quantico. Gather a list of all the people that may harbour a grudge against Hotch and aren't already in prison. Make sure you include Hotch's cases as a prosecutor."

Dave regarded Haley. She looked as terrified as he was.

"I'll stay here. We need one of us to be around when Hotch wakes up." He tried to sound convincing but he knew things looked bleak. He fingered the gold bracelet he carried in his pocket and said a silent prayer as the rest of the team left, fatigue forgotten and each determined to catch the individual who had had the gall to attack one of their own.

***


	2. Chapter 2

_I don't own any of the CM characters; can only wish that I did. _

**Chapter 2**

Two police officers greeted JJ, Morgan and Prentiss at Hotch's building. There was already a small group of onlookers and JJ groaned when she caught sight of a news van. She walked briskly towards it in hopes of finding out more of what had happened while keeping Hotch's identity and condition a secret.

Morgan and Prentiss flashed their ID to the officers, ducked underneath the yellow tape barrier and went up to their colleague's small, sparsely furnished apartment. Looking around, they took in the gun on the kitchen table and the broken glass, liquor and blood stains on the floor next to a wet-bar.

"He didn't see it coming, he didn't stand a chance." Prentiss said furiously.

Morgan's jaw clenched and his hands curled into fists. "It takes a god-damned coward to shoot an unarmed man."

A forensics team was just finishing up in the bedroom, dusting for fingerprints around an open window with a tired-looking Erin Strauss looking on. Upon seeing the agents, she frowned briefly then made her way over to them.

"You know that you shouldn't be here." she began.

Morgan glared at her. "Don't try to tell us we can't work this case. Our boss has been shot, that's the only reason necessary for us to be involved."

Strauss simply sighed. "I'm well aware of the closeness of the BAU team. I suspect Agent Hotchner would do no differently if it had been someone else. I'll give you the official green-light BUT ONLY WITH the proviso that I'm kept informed. Is that understood Agents?"

"Yes m'am." Prentiss replied, glancing at Morgan.

"Then there's something that you should see..."

Strauss walked into the living area and pulled a clear plastic evidence bag from a box. She handed it to Morgan.

Derek drew a sharp breath.

"What is it?" asked Emily in concern.

Morgan was already reaching for his phone as he answered in an angry hiss, "My missing badge..."

***

**Hillside Hospital****, DC**

_Hotch had heard from a few lucky survivors of severe trauma that hovering on the brink of death could be very bizarre but he had never expected to experience it for himself. He wasn't floating above his own body looking down on himself as depicted on television. Nor was he having his life played back to him like a cheap movie. It was simply an awareness. Instinct told him that he was teetering on the edge and that he needed to make a choice. He could either fight on with no ultimate guarantee of survival, or he could allow himself to slip away._

_Even for Hotch, who had never willingly given up on anything in his entire life, it was a dilemma. Obviously the TV and movies got it wrong; he COULD still feel. He had never been in so much pain; it was overwhelming and the thought of letting go was very tempting. It wouldn't be quitting, exactly. Aaron knew he was in bad shape. Maybe it would be best to let it happen sooner rather than later._

_On the other hand, he had people to live for, who needed and cared deeply about him. They would expect him to fight and they deserved that reaction. Whatever Hotch's flaws, Jack needed his father, Sean needed his brother and his team needed their Unit Chief. Of course, he understood others could take over these roles with equal or even greater success but he didn't shirk responsibility easily... Besides, he admitted, he loved them all too._

_Something told him that he needed to decide quickly. But what decision to make? As his mind wrestled with the question of his own mortality another thought struck him and once remembered the path of action was crystal clear._

_His mind made up, Hotch re-entered the darkness_.

***

**BAU**

A partial BAU team gathered together in their conference room. Although it was nearly noon, Morgan, Prentiss and Garcia had been sent home for a few hours of sleep. Derek had also stopped by the hospital to collect Sean and drop him off at a nearby hotel; Haley would take the next shift of sitting with Hotch. Rossi, Reid and JJ had already had their break although none felt rejuvenated.

"Do you think Foyet is going to start a new killing spree?" asked JJ, cupping her hands around her coffee mug and stifling a yawn.

"I think he has some unfinished business first." Rossi said bleakly. "Hotch was personal, not random. He pissed off Foyet by not accepting his deal, which would have given the scum power and manipulation. Now Foyet's taunting Derek instead by returning just his badge and not his ID."

He shook his head in annoyance. "I just wish Morgan had accepted more than an unmarked car outside his house... he will be in danger until Foyet figures out Hotch is still alive, then he'll feel the need to try to rectify that."

JJ shuddered involuntarily. "Do we have people in place at the hospital? I can't keep the press out of this for long... the story of an FBI agent being shot in his own home is already headline news. Foyet will be watching."

Dave closed his eyes in frustration. Regardless of the media coverage, at least one BAU agent's life was at risk. "Yes, we've got a few undercover agents in the ICU. Still doesn't make me feel any better. We need to catch the bastard once and for all."

"Assuming that Foyet sticks to his past patterns, he might also try to make a deal with the next person in-charge..." Reid looked pointedly at Dave.

"Yeah, don't think I haven't been watching my back." replied Rossi. "But for now it changes nothing. Let's get down to work. What do we know from the crime scene?"

Reid flipped through the police report given to him by Emily before she went home.

"Hotch's gun was found on his kitchen table and other than the broken glass on the floor, there were no signs of a struggle. Forensics weren't able to get any prints, but we know Foyet wears gloves so that's not surprising."

Rossi stroked his beard. "Hotch was shot in the chest. Therefore, he was either leaning back against the wet-bar with his drink or turned around to face the intruder. Either way, he would have seen his assailant and recognized Foyet but wasn't given the opportunity to go for his second gun."

"Foyet must have attacked pretty quickly... the neighbour said he heard the gunshot only a minute or two after hearing Hotch come home." remarked JJ. "Thank god he went to investigate!"

"And thank god Foyet didn't stick around to kill the rescuers." muttered Rossi to no one in particular.

"Do we know what Foyet took with him?" asked Reid suddenly.

"Take?" JJ raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Yeah. Remember guys, he takes something to put on the body of his next victim, as well as leaving something. He left Morgan's badge, but what did he take? Hotch's first gun was on the table and the hospital has given us the one he carries on his ankle."

"Good job, Reid, I'd forgotten that. JJ, would you mind calling the hospital and seeing if there was anything obvious missing in Hotch's belongings... his watch maybe?"

"Yes Sir."

After JJ had left, Rossi, eyes closed, asked "Anything else in the report, Reid?"

Reid bit his bottom lip. "No. We can guess that Foyet was disturbed since he'd normally leave a symbol behind..." He hesitated. "And he'd stick around to make sure the victim has died and to enjoy watching..."

Rossi glanced up sharply at Reid's tone. "Spencer, Hotch is a fighter..."

Reid nodded mutely.

"Reid, we need to believe in him..."

Another nod.

Dave was saved from having to say things that he didn't know if even he believed by JJ's return. She wore a slightly confused expression on her face.

"What is it JJ?"

"There was no tie amongst Hotch's belongings. Could he have taken it off before being shot?"

"Highly doubtful given the timing." supplied Reid. "So now we know that Foyet is sticking to his signature, even if his victimology has changed."

The blond liaison turned to Dave. "There's something else, Sir. While I was on the phone with the ER attendant a message came through from Dr. Barton... He wants to speak to you in person and hopes you don't mind meeting him at the hospital as soon as you can. I got the impression it wasn't about Hotch's medical condition per se but he wouldn't elaborate, just insisted that I pass on the message to you. He sounded very upset..."

Rossi frowned but rose from his chair. "Okay, I'll head back over now. JJ, contact the police officer in charge of the investigation at Hotch's apartment. We need to come up with some sort of plan to flush out Foyet before he goes underground again. Reid, get your thinking cap on; see if there's anything in the profile we can use."

"Yes, Sir."

***

**Hillside Hospital****, DC**

Having checked on Hotch and finding no visible change in his condition, Rossi sat in the ICU waiting room while Dr. Barton was paged. David was wracking his brain for a plan that didn't involve using Morgan or Hotch as bait but he couldn't. He knew Foyet's profile too well and understood that the Reaper had made an appearance solely to carry out a personal vendetta against the man that wouldn't allow himself to be manipulated; all bets were off as to whether the serial killer would keep to past patterns as he hunted Aaron and Derek.

The professional side to Rossi also recognized that the serial killer's return provided an opportunity to capture him once and for all. If they failed, it was more than two agents' lives at stake; it would be impossible to trace Foyet once he went back underground. Action was required... and quickly.

The older agent's thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of Nigel Barton. The doctor looked far more stressed than he had following Hotch's surgery. Rossi's heart began to beat faster and he felt slightly nauseous.

"Has something happened to Aaron?" he asked, dreading the answer.

Dr. Barton shook his head apologetically. "No, there's been no change. Mr. Hotchner is stable, but remains in extremely critical condition."

Rossi studied the physician. "Agent Jareau said that you wanted to see me ASAP?"

Nigel looked over both shoulders as though expecting someone to be hiding in the shadows. "Would you mind if we talked somewhere less public?"

"Sure."

The two men left the waiting room. Rossi followed the doctor through several corridors and eventually into a deserted conference room with no windows. Nigel closed the door then sat down at the table and began fidgeting with the stethoscope around his neck. David also sat down and waited patiently.

Several minutes passed. The doctor seemed to be struggling with something but abruptly made up his mind and looked at the profiler.

"I don't know what to do..." he began, desperation in his eyes. "I took an oath to save lives, not take them and I've always fought to uphold that oath."

Rossi remained silent, keeping his face neutral.

"But an hour or so ago, I received a phone call threatening the life of my son..." he hid his face in his hands. "The caller said he'd kill Jeffrey if... if I "allowed" Aaron Hotchner to live. How am I supposed to choose between a patient and my son, my own flesh and blood??!"

Rossi's blood ran cold. _'Foyet.'_

"Tell me about the caller, doctor. Male?"

Nigel nodded. "He had a Boston accent."

Dave closed his eyes briefly. "I need to know exactly what he said, word for word as best you can."

The agent took out a pen and the little pocketbook he always carried and took notes as the surgeon detailed the conversation. By the time he had finished, the doctor was in tears.

"I don't mean to sound a braggart, Agent Rossi, but I'm the best emergency cardiac/thoracic trauma surgeon in the country. Although I have some excellent colleagues, given the location of the bullet I just wouldn't be as confident in a positive outcome if anyone other than me on my best day were performing Agent Hotchner's operation."

Dr. Barton looked down at his shaking hands. "And if I'm like this, I'll be good to nobody..."

"Doctor," Rossi said. "We're doing everything we can to find this man; it's the same individual who shot Aaron."

Nigel sighed. "I have faith that you'll catch him in the end, but in less than 38 hours? I don't know that I can be in that OR otherwise... I'm ashamed to say that but I wanted to be up front with you. I won't kill a man in cold blood but I can't simply hand over my son for slaughter. "

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that. I'm confident that we can come up with a way to have your son safe AND you in that operating room." Dave leaned forward and grasped one of the physician's hands.

"Aaron has a son too. And like you, he's a firm believer in doing the right thing... It's what put him here in the first place. You BOTH deserve better."

The doctor raised his head, interested. "What do you mean, 'it's what put him here'?"

"The man offered Hotch a deal which would have meant going against everything that we fight for. Aaron refused. The shooter has taken this rather personally."

"What should I do?"

"Go about your business as normally as you can." Rossi handed the surgeon his card. "Keep me informed if the man contacts you or your son or you notice anything suspicious either here or at home. In the meantime, I'll send one of my agents to shadow Jeffrey. Kidnapping would be new to our man, but let's not take any chances."

They rose and shook hands.

"Thank you Agent Rossi, I feel a little better."

"It's the least I can do. In addition to being an outstanding agent and human being, Aaron Hotchner is my best friend... and the son I never had. Let's make sure both of our boys are safe."

***


	3. Chapter 3

_I don't own any of the CM characters; can only wish that I did. _

**Chapter 3**

The entire profiling team had gathered in BAU room 30 minutes later for Dave to relate his conversation with the doctor. Detective Liam Carver, in charge of the investigation of Hotch's shooting, had joined them and offered his team's assistance.

"We're sure the caller was Foyet?" said Morgan.

"I think it's a safe assumption. Nobody else would have reason to suggest that particular deal."

Prentiss was re-reading her notes. "Foyet must have somehow infiltrated the hospital... he knew details about Hotch's condition that aren't public knowledge."

JJ agreed. "The media have found out that Hotch was the agent shot and that he is alive in critical condition but they have nothing else. And I've been in touch with the hospital's Communications department. They know not to release any information until they've passed it through me."

Rossi nodded approvingly. "Good."

The detective was pulling out his cell phone. "I'll get a couple of plainclothes officers over there right away. If there's a leak, we'll find it."

Reid spoke up. "I don't think it was a leak. It's far more likely that Foyet was at the hospital. It doesn't fit his profile to have used a partner."

"And let's face it, we were more interested in knowing Hotch's condition that night than looking around at whoever might be listening in." Morgan said bitterly.

He turned to Garcia, who was sitting next to him. "Baby Girl, have you found anything at all which could help us to trace Foyet?"

The technical analyst wrinkled her nose. "Nadda. The snake has slithered back under his rock. No credit card activity, no bank transactions, no movement on any of his addresses. I also contacted that reporter in Boston but he hasn't heard from Foyet since the initial arrest."

"Garcia, how about checking medical clinics and hospitals between here and Boston?" Prentiss suggested. "Send out a physical description. Foyet wasn't in great shape when he escaped, maybe we'll get lucky."

"I'm on it." Garcia left to return to her 'cave' of computers.

Detective Carver added, "And if you can provide my officers with a profile and photograph, we can get eyes out on the streets."

"No problem." grunted Rossi.

"We have to act fast... Hotch will need that operation in less than 36 hours." Reid stated, his fingers twirling a pen in agitation.

Exasperated, Emily took the pen from Reid. "Anything else come out of Barton's talk with Foyet?" she asked while giving Spencer a look of half pity, half annoyance.

Rossi picked up his notebook. "The deal is an exchange of lives: Hotch's for Jeffrey's. But there are conditions attached. Nigel must not be anywhere near the hospital, internet or phone during Aaron's operation. Even then, proof of Hotch's death must be provided before the son will be safe."

"Foyet's done his homework." observed Reid. "He knows that Barton is the only doctor in the country with a chance at making the procedure a success."

"More than that." said Rossi. "He's staked out the whole family. When he called the father, he described the son's current movements with extreme detail: Jeffrey was in his room playing guitar and drinking a Coke."

The detective sat back in his chair. "How do you want to play this, Agent Rossi?"

"We use the profile..."

"And me as bait." interjected Morgan.

The team each stared in horror at Derek. He returned their looks calmly.

"Oh come on. We all know that Foyet wants both Hotch and I dead to get off on his power over the FBI. Hotch is halfway there already and can't defend himself if something goes wrong. That leaves me... and I'm more than happy to have another shot at that scumbag."

Prentiss was shaking her head. "It's too risky. There's got to be another way..."

"No Emily." Rossi sighed regretfully. "Morgan's right. Foyet is targeting the Bartons to get at us. Remember, he likes to manipulate and control. Derek is the only one who will motivate him enough to come out of hiding, except for Hotch and we can't go there."

"The best way to flush him out would be to anger him." Reid said. He had gotten up and was examining the victim board and its resulting profile from their work in Boston some months earlier. "He's an extreme narcissist and recognition-seeker. And he also thinks he's bigger than Bundy."

"He will be if an FBI agent dies..." muttered Carver, "especially a Unit Chief."

"Are you up for a press conference JJ?" Rossi glanced over at the blond.

She steadily returned his gaze. "Of course."

"Great. Let's really piss this guy off. We're going to center the conference around Hotch and Morgan. Start by talking about Hotch. Play up his honour, his devotion to the job and his legacy at putting the bad guys away; a real hero in the spotlight. Call his shooter a coward for attacking an unarmed man in his home. Make this the only mention of Foyet; pass over it quickly, JJ. Then move on to the BAU. Suggest that Morgan may be made interim Unit Chief based on his proven bravery and ability. Give him a quote along the lines of 'ensuring justice is done and the perpetrator will soon be behind bars'. Am I missing anything?"

"What if I get a question about potential suspects?" asked JJ.

Rossi frowned. "As much as I'd love to anger Foyet even more by saying that we don't think he's good enough to catch an FBI agent unawares, I don't want to create panic. This was a targeted attack, not random. Let's preface things by saying that it is an official statement and there will be no questions at the end."

Reid looked at Morgan. "That's a big target we're putting on your back."

Morgan shrugged. "I'm fine with it kid... better me than Hotch. And I have every intention of bringing down the asshole this time."

Prentiss turned to Carver. "Detective, there is no room for error with Foyet. He's extremely intelligent and usually well-organized. Your men will have to be ready."

"We will be." said Carver grimly.

Rossi turned to JJ once more. "How soon can we do the press conference?"

"I can have everyone gathered in a couple of hours."

"Ok, while JJ is taking care of the media Morgan will deliver Foyet's profile to Detective Carver's officers. Prentiss, I want you to organize a safe-house. Reid, follow up on anything that Garcia has found. I'll go back to the hospital to take the next shift with Hotch. That way I can let Dr. Barton know what's going on. Besides, Foyet will expect at least one of us to be with Aaron at all times and we don't want to arouse his suspicions."

"What's your plan?" asked Morgan.

"Since we don't have much time for anything elaborate, we'll use of one Detective Carver's men to act as Jeffrey. We'll make a subtle show of Morgan 'sneaking' him out of the Barton's house to the safe-house and hope Foyet takes the bait and comes after Derek and 'Jeffrey'. But just in case he doesn't bite, I want Prentiss to leave the house with everyone else, but then double back and stay with the Bartons. I'll be at the hospital protecting Hotch. JJ and Reid will be back-up for Morgan."

Prentiss looked unconvinced. "I hope he goes for it... seems a little obvious."

Rossi nodded. "I know. But I'm hoping that Foyet will be so angry that he will want to attack and not think too much. If anyone has a better way, I'm happy to hear it, but the clock is ticking. Hotch needs to be on that operating table ASAP and in no more than 36 hours."

"What about staging Agent Hotchner's death?" suggested Carver.

"I'd thought about that too, but it would involve too much time, too much involvement from people outside of this room, and it essentially lures Foyet back to Hotch; he'll want to see absolute proof after missing out the first time; hearing it on TV won't be enough. I don't want to put any unnecessary lives at risk."

"Sounds reasonable." The detective rose from his chair. "Let's get to it then. We have a killer to catch."

***

**3****3 HOURS TO SURGERY DEADLINE**

Morgan had finished delivering the Reaper's profile to Carver's officers and they had been dispersed to their various assignments prior to the press conference. Rossi wanted the trap set before the bait was supplied and before Foyet could get wind of any planning.

Prentiss had established the location for the safe house and organized its preparation. Nobody knew how long it would take Foyet to find the bait irresistible so Emily ensured that there was plenty of food and water and a deck of cards for the agents to pass the time. The small apartment that she had found was often used by the local police for this exact purpose. This was deliberate strategy; knowing the serial killer's profile, the team felt that he would believe the police to be stupid enough to use previous safe house locations and it was absolutely crucial that Foyet believed that the decoy really was Jeffrey Barton. Having finished her task, Prentiss sat in the BAU room with Morgan, waiting for Rossi to give them the green light to begin putting the plan into action.

Reid had been sent to follow up on a potential lead Garcia had uncovered. A retired surgeon had been doing some volunteer work at a small walk-in clinic. Working late one evening, the doctor had been threatened with a knife and forced to treat a thin man suffering from severe anaemia and dehydration. The patient had worn a black mask throughout the ordeal and had spoken with a Boston accent.

"Sounds like our guy." Rossi had remarked when Reid had called him from the clinic. "Good. If he's physically weak, he might be even more tempted to make his move sooner rather than later."

Reid crossed his fingers as he sat in the SUV. "I hope so for Hotch's sake."

JJ had finished writing the statement for the media and done a dry run for Dave. The press had been assembled; it was now time to lay the bait. Rossi locked his office and began to make his way through the bullpen. JJ stopped him at the door to the BAU.

"Are you sure you don't want to deliver the statement yourself, Sir?"

Dave shook his head. "No, JJ. Foyet sees me as the authority figure right now. I don't want him to think that he's worthy of the 'leader's' attention."

JJ grinned ruefully. "I won't take that personally."

Rossi grinned back. "You shouldn't. Okay, you can handle things from here so I'm off to the hospital. Tell Prentiss and Garcia to wait 30 minutes after the end of the conference and then start rolling. Call me if you need to, I'll be with Hotch."

"Yes Sir."

***

The building was shabby and located in a seedy part of town. The place was a dump but that suited him fine; it wouldn't attract any attention. And he didn't think he would need to stay for much longer.

Or would he? The serial killer drew a sudden, sharp and painful breath as the press conference coverage continued on the TV he was watching while sitting in his small hotel room.

George Foyet knew that he couldn't afford to waste his energy on getting angry, yet he couldn't help it. He tried to relax but his hands only gripped the chair's armrests tighter. The FBI's statement was infuriating him. They had started it off by going on and on about the 'heroic' Agent Hotchner, his already-legendary status at the Bureau and his uncompromising pursuit of justice. Well, they wouldn't be talking about him in the present tense for long. The agent wouldn't be so lucky again. Fate would ensure that Hotchner would die. Foyet grinned at the thought. He knew the odds of his nemesis surviving more surgery were small, but the Reaper had already made his back-up plan. This time he would use the knife. This time there would be no doubt as to who was superior. This time Hotchner would be awake until the last stroke. This time he would show fear... and unabated terror!

Two words jerked Foyet's attention back to the television. The blond thing delivering the statement had had the nerve to insult the Unit Chief's assailant, calling him cowardly and weak! Who did she think she was anyway? And where were the higher-ranking agents? His hands clenched involuntarily again and he snarledaloud. Such lies!

Getting up from his chair, Foyet went over to the bed and removed his knife from under the pillow. He stroked the handle fondly, finding comfort in the action and sat down on the mattress, eyes still glued to the TV. His hand was in mid-stroke when he heard that Special Agent Derek Morgan was being considered as a temporary replacement for Hotchner. Putting the knife back in its hiding place, he leaned forward, intrigued. Shortly afterwards the blond thing concluded the statement and left the podium, giving no time for questions. Too bad, she was kind of pretty.

But Foyet's thoughts quickly returned to the press conference. Derek Morgan in a position of power? As Unit Chief of the BAU? Interesting... This development might just have provided an opportunity. Killing Hotchner had always been foremost in Foyet's mind. But if there was the chance to tease Morgan and then kill him too he would take it.

He was under no illusions that this was not a trap. The press conference had been for his benefit. The carefully worded script had been designed to anger him and he understood that Derek was baiting him. They must have found out about the threat to the surgeon's son. Good, let them waste time worrying about the doctor's ethics; it wouldn't matter in the end. One way or another Hotchner would die. And now, so would Derek Morgan. Foyet wasn't concerned about evading the inevitable chase following the deaths of the agents; they would never catch him.

George Foyet looked at his watch and did a quick calculation. He smiled broadly. He could have it all... and all thanks to the FBI.

***


	4. Chapter 4

_I don't own any of the CM characters; can only wish that I did. _

**Chapter 4**

**3****2 HOURS TO SURGERY DEADLINE**

Morgan pulled the unmarked car up to the front of the Barton's two-storey house and casually made his way to the front door. His quick knock was answered almost immediately and he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

Prentiss parked her own unmarked car a few houses down the street from the Barton's and turned off the ignition. She thought she made a pretty good show of pretending to adjust her make up while looking in the rear-view mirror. She didn't think that they had been followed and she saw no suspicious cars in the block. This was not surprising. Foyet was exceptionally intelligent and would expect them to protect the surgeon's son. He wouldn't need to follow the agents to the house, only to their next destination.

Thirty minutes later the front door to the house opened. Morgan and 'Jeffrey' came out, the latter wearing a hoodie and sunglasses. Like a typical teenager, he walked with a shuffling gait, slightly slumped shoulders and hands in the pockets of his jeans. Derek carried a knapsack, which he flung carelessly into the back seat of the car as the two men got into the vehicle.

***

Foyet chuckled as he turned the ignition key on the motorcycle. It seemed as though the FBI were as predictable as the local police. He had only been waiting for 10 minutes before the first car carrying plain-clothed detectives had arrived. _'Glaringly obvious.'_ the killer had thought.

Derek's non-descript Ford had been next.

Foyet had almost missed the third car, the one carrying the dark-haired female BAU agent. But she had caught his attention when she hadn't gotten out of the car after touching up her make-up. Why would you go to the trouble but then stay in your vehicle?

He followed this parade of seemingly unrelated cars at a discreet distance, weaving in and out of traffic like a biker just out for a joy ride. And why not? This was going to be an easy double-kill.

***

Morgan hurried the decoy into the small, deserted apartment building. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a key and seconds later the agent and officer were inside. Wordlessly, they secured their surroundings, ensuring the only two windows in the bachelor suite were locked and pulling down the shades. The room was on the third floor, so they were unconcerned about being taken unawares; the only sensible entry/exit was through the apartment's only door.

The undercover officer opened the knapsack and pulled out his gun and holster. Re-armed, he sat down at the only table and held up the cards to Morgan.

Morgan nodded and putting his own gun within easy reach joined his companion at the table.

"And now we wait." he said grimly, noting the time on his watch.

***

Prentiss waited until Morgan and 'Jeffrey' were inside the apartment building and the two plain-clothes officers stationed at pre-arranged check points before she drove around the block. Leaving the car, she doubled back on foot, peeking around the corner from her vantage place behind a large phone booth. She was just in time to see a motorcycle slow down as it passed the apartment building, its rider looking around carefully before gunning the engine and disappearing down another road.

Emily spoke into her communicator. "The rat has smelt the bait."

***

**28**** HOURS TO SURGERY DEADLINE**

JJ, Reid and Garcia sat restlessly together in the BAU bullpen. Reid was due to give Rossi a quick break in an hour so he was sitting with his feet up on his desk in an attempt to doze. JJ would relieve Prentiss at the Barton residence but not for another few hours so she tried to relax by focussing on Garcia's recounting of the day's gossip. Time was their enemy and each team member found himself/herself glancing nervously up at the clock on the wall. As slowly as it seemed to be passing for the agents, it was going far too quickly for their fallen leader.

"Any update from Rossi?" asked Garcia for the umpteenth time.

JJ sighed and smiled slightly. "Pen, you just asked us 5 minutes ago..."

"Sorry..."

They sat in jittery silence.

***

Behind a curtain in the ICU, all was deathly quiet save for the sound of the medical equipment and the patient's heart beat. David Rossi put a book down on the floor next to his chair and took Hotch's hand in his. The Unit Chief was extremely pale and there was a slight bluish tinge to his complexion. Rossi knew that his friend wasn't circulating the full amount of oxygen his body needed in spite of the respirator; the bullet was slowly killing him.

"Hang on Aaron." whispered Dave. "I know you. You won't give up. Keep fighting Hotch. Don't let Foyet win..."

His voice cracked. He had lost colleagues over the course of his career, but this was different. This man meant a hell of a lot more to him. SSA Hotchner was family, and Rossi didn't say that easily.

"Just hang on, Aaron." the older agent repeated. "The doctor is going to remove that bullet and then you'll be as right as rain. But you need to give him that chance..."

He checked the clock on one of the machines then watched Hotch's rib cage rise and fall to the rhythm of the ventilator. _'Please hang on...'_

***

Prentiss had taken her time in returning to the Barton's to make sure she wasn't followed. She even twice switched vehicles and parked in the driveway of one of the surgeon's neighbours. So far so good.

Mrs. Sarah Barton led her into the living-room where her son Jeffrey was watching a movie on the television. He looked up as Emily entered and flashed her a shy smile.

"Hi Jeffrey, I'm Agent Prentiss from the FBI. But you can call me Emily." She held out her hand and he shook it; confidently for a teen, the agent thought.

"I'm Jeff."

His eyes widened slightly as he caught sight of the gun on her hip. "Um, you don't really think that guy is going to come here do you?"

"We hope not but I get the easy job of hanging out here just in case. Always better to be prepared. You guys have locked all of the windows?"

Sarah nodded. "We've followed your instructions to the letter... Nigel too."

Emily smiled encouragingly. "Good. Please don't let me interrupt you. I'll just sit here where I can see the front of the house." She chose a comfortable-looking chair which was located next to the window. From it, she had a good view of the empty driveway and most of the front yard without needing to move the curtain. She settled into the chair and prepared herself for a long wait.

***

Morgan sighed heavily as Pete Tubbs, aka 'Jeffrey' won yet another round of poker. "Man, this is gonna be a long wait, in more ways than one." he grumbled.

Tubbs grinned. "Had enough?"

"One more game."

As he shuffled the deck of cards, Derek was reminded of all the stakeouts he had done with Hotch over the years. Thinking of his boss caused him to glace uneasily at his watch. _'Come on out and show yourself Foyet, you coward!'_ he thought.

Derek hated waiting. He was a man of action, not patience. Yet he knew that Foyet was exceedingly disciplined. The killer would wait as long as necessary, realizing that every minute meant more danger to the BAU Chief... assuming that the Reaper took the bait...

"Did you hear something?!" Tubbs' hand had gone to his weapon.

Morgan doused the light and the two men moved to opposite sides of the door. Derek looked through the peephole. The hallway appeared empty. Slowly, he opened the door and paused before carefully sticking his head out. There was nobody in sight. Morgan let out the breath that he'd been holding and was about to tell Tubbs everything was okay when he caught sight of a suspicious-looking red wet spot on the carpet. His eyes followed it to the apartment's door and he was instantly alert. He ducked back into the room and shut the door.

"He's here!" he hissed.

They stood in the darkness for a full 15 minutes but heard nothing further. Finally Morgan turned the light back on.

Tubbs raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Foyet was here. He left us his calling card."

"Which is what?" asked Tubbs.

Morgan opened the door again. Painted in bright red was a large eye with several markings. Derek had seen it several times in Boston, although on those occasions the symbol had been done using blood from the Reaper's victims.

"What is it?"

"It's called the eye of providence, or something like that." replied Morgan. "Foyet wants to toy with us. He wants us to think he can have us whenever he chooses."

Losing his temper in sudden frustration, Morgan slapped his hand on the table. "Damn him!"

Quickly recovering from his outburst the profiler then reached for his phone. "Rossi? We may have a problem and you should be ready for company..."

***

**16**** HOURS TO SURGERY DEADLINE**

Ever since he had received Morgan's phone call David Rossi had been on edge. Instead of going home to sleep when Reid arrived to relieve him, the older agent had phoned Sean and Haley and told them to stay away from the hospital until they got the okay from **two** members of the BAU. Dave didn't want to risk Foyet capturing one of the team and attempting to use them to get to Hotch's family since the serial killer had already proven himself as a master of manipulation and control.

"We hope it's just precautionary." He had tried to reassure them both.

Now, returning from the cafeteria with coffees for both himself and Reid, Rossi began to feel the first twinges of panic. He knew the clock was ticking. Sitting next to Hotch, he was witness to his best friend's slow deterioration. The doctors had hoped the Unit Chief would become stronger but the opposite was happening. Dr. Barton had reduced the time between checks on the patient. He had also warned Rossi that they may not be able to wait the original length of time before operating.

Rossi studied the doctor carefully as Nigel delivered this latest blow. The surgeon seemed to be holding up relatively well under the strain and had given no indication that he would pass off Hotch's case to another colleague. But Dave didn't want to take any chances. The team needed to catch Foyet before Hotch went into the OR, it was that simple.

Of course, the difficulty was that Foyet was equally aware of Agent Hotchner's medical condition and even if tempted to go after Morgan, would no doubt delay his attack as long as possible.

Rossi swore in silent frustration. He paused outside of the curtain separating Hotch from the rest of the ICU; Dave didn't want Reid to see his misgivings. The team needed their interim leader to be strong. He took a deep breath and was about to push the curtain aside when a wide-eyed Nigel Barton rushed into the ICU and bee-lined towards the Agent. The doctor was carrying a piece of paper in his hand.

Rossi put the two coffee cups down on a nearby countertop and took the paper. A chill went down his spine as he looked at the now-familiar red symbol of the Reaper. Written underneath the eye were the words 'REMEMBER OUR DEAL'.

He looked up to find the doctor sitting in a chair, his head in his hands and his shoulders heaving. The pressure on Dr. Barton was becoming enormous and Dave knew that he needed to calm the surgeon down and fast.

"Nigel, he's playing mind games with us. Remember what I told you about his profile... manipulate and instil fear. He is still going to go after Agent Morgan first. I believe this even more now that I've seen this note. Foyet wants you to think again about whether you will perform the operation on Agent Hotchner. And when you do walk into that OR, he wants to make sure that you're jittery and not fully concentrating."

"He's doing a great job, David." Nigel said despondently, his face still buried in his hands. "I don't know if I **can** operate..."

Rossi gently removed the doctor's hands from his face and looked him in the straight in the eye. He put all the confidence and authority he could into his voice as he said, "Dr. Barton, you have to trust me. This team will not let anything happen to your son or family. We will not let anything happen to you. Aaron will fight for his life, but we both know that desire isn't enough. He needs that operation and he needs **YOU** to do it. I know it's difficult, but please, please prepare to work your magic and leave everything else to us."

The surgeon swallowed. "I'll try..." he said softly. "I'm sorry Agent Rossi but I can't promise anything more right now." He rose and without another word, walked slowly away.

***

Back in his hotel room, George Foyet grinned to himself as he sharpened his knife. Hotchner's tie and Morgan's identification were laid out on the bed, ready to go. But there wasn't any rush. The surgeon had said that they would wait as long as possible to operate so he had lots of time to enjoy his latest victories: the delivery of his messages to the FBI. It had almost been too easy.

In contrast, the serial killer knew the next plan would be more difficult to execute so he repeated its details in his head. He needed to maintain his discipline. He would target Morgan first; the doctor's son would be dessert. Foyet expected little resistance once the boy had witnessed the death of an Agent. Then he would make his way to the hospital and wait. If by some miracle Hotchner beat the odds and made it out of surgery then Foyet would delay as long as it took for the man to regain consciousness; it was imperative Hotchner be awake when he struck.

Chuckling in anticipation he placed the knife next to his trophies on the bed and lay down next to them. It wouldn't hurt to get a bit of rest to maximize his strength before show time. As he drifted off to sleep, he thought that **THIS** would be the moment when he became bigger than Bundy.

***


	5. Chapter 5

_I don't own any of the CM characters; can only wish that I did. _

**Chapter 5**

**REVISED SURGERY DEADLINE: 3 HOURS**

All was quiet inside the safe house apartment. The deck of cards had been put back into its sleeve, guns returned to holsters. Undercover Officer Pete Tubbs was curled up on the couch asleep, sunglasses over his eyes. Derek had figured that he wouldn't be able to rest so he had volunteered to take the first solo shift.

Morgan was calling upon all of his years of training in an attempt to keep his cool; it was not his strong point but he knew that he needed to be alert and focussed. Despite Hotch's worsening condition, Reid had pointed out in a recent phone conversation that an earlier surgery might just work in their favour. Dr. Barton could have completed the operation **before** Foyet tried to make good on any of his threats.

Regardless of this theory, Rossi was still convinced that Foyet would come to Morgan first. And Derek was tired of waiting. In an attempt to make himself feel better, he dialled the number of Garcia's cell phone.

"Hi my lovely." came a subdued voice.

Derek frowned. "Baby girl, you disappoint me. No witty comment?"

"Sorry... I guess I'm just not up for fun right now." replied the depressed-sounding technical analyst.

"It's okay Garcia, I'm not really either. I was just hoping you could cheer me up. What's going on over there? How's everyone holding up?"

"We're trying to be strong... Emily is just back from the Barton's; JJ has taken her place. She says the family is very nice and all seemed quiet when she left. We haven't heard from Rossi for awhile, which we're taking to mean as there being no change in Hotch's condition. We just sent Reid out to get some food. The boy genius was driving us crazy with his gloomy stats on survival rates for surgeries like the one that Hotch needs..."

Morgan shook his head. Unfortunately, statistics were Reid's forte and when he was stressed he tended to quote them even more than usual. Poor kid. He sighed. They all needed the ordeal to be over and to have a positive outcome. The case in Canada had severely affected each team member; Hotch's being shot had only added to their fatigue and worry. Tensions were extreme and it was only a matter of time before one of them broke.

"You tell everyone to hang in there, okay Sweetness?"

"Be careful Derek. I can't lose you too..."

"Penelope, Hotch is gonna make it! You're not going to lose anyone!"

"I know... I just..."

"Don't even go there!" ordered Morgan. "We're gonna catch this asshole and the doc is gonna get out that damn bullet!"

He could sense Garcia's attempt at a smile over the connection.

"I know. Just please hurry."

Morgan closed his cell phone and placed it on the table in front of him. He would like nothing better than to hurry but it seemed that Foyet had other ideas. He was starting to feel overwhelmed by his desperation. Taking a deep breath, Derek ran his hands over his bald head and tried to pull himself together.

***

Agent Jareau sat alone in the Barton's living-room, keeping up reconnaissance on the front of the house. She felt alert, adrenaline pumping through her body. She also felt as though time was running out for the Unit Chief and she was furious. By attacking Hotch, he had attacked the entire BAU and she was taking it very personally. She thought of Jack and her own son Henry. The media liaison couldn't imagine either boy growing up without their fathers. She resisted the temptation to check in with Will; she needed to ensure Jeffrey Barton's safety first and foremost and hope the rest of events went according to plan.

JJ was so absorbed in watching the street that she didn't see or hear him enter the room until he was standing almost directly in front of her.

"Agent Jareau?" said a soft male voice.

JJ jumped. "Jeffrey!" she exclaimed, "You startled me!"

The teen looked abashed. "Sorry..."

The agent saw that he was troubled. "It's okay. How are you doing?"

Jeffrey shrugged noncommittally.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

The doctor's son hesitated for a minute then sat down in a chair opposite her. He looked down at his shoes, his hands clenched tightly together.

"I uh... I'm a bit scared..." he mumbled.

"It's perfectly normal and okay to be scared." JJ said sympathetically. "But you're safe here. There are lots of undercover officers inside the house and scattered all over the neighbourhood. And we're very confident that the suspect will go for Agent Morgan and Officer Tubbs."

Jeffrey nodded slowly. "I feel weird too. I mean, all this just for me? Don't you have to be famous and stuff to have SWAT outside your house?"

JJ smiled. "Nope, no fame required."

"But why all the fuss? My dad said I had to do whatever you said because he'd been threatened. I don't get it... he's a doctor and saves lives. Why does this guy want to scare us? And what does it have to do with me?"

The blond agent sighed. "I think you should ask your dad..."

"Please Agent Jareau, I'm 16 and I can take it."

"It's not up to me, Jeff. You really need to hear it from your parents."

The teenager frowned but didn't argue. Instead, he asked, "Your boss is one of my dad's patients, right?"

JJ nodded, her eyes sweeping the front of the house.

"Tell me about him."

It seemed an odd question from someone who didn't know the delicate situation and about Foyet's threat. JJ studied the youngster. He was smart; he was already starting to put the pieces together. She sighed. She may as well answer the question.

"Agent Hotchner is one of the best profilers I've ever worked with. He's a great leader and most of the time, a really good boss."

Jeffrey grinned. "Yeah, my boss last summer was kinda like that... cool most of the time but he could also be a jerk. Does he have kids?"

"A son. Jack is about 5 years old now..." JJ sounded slightly sad and Jeff picked up on it.

"What aren't you saying?" he asked.

JJ kicked herself. This kid would make a good profiler. "Well... our boss is a patient because he was shot. He's in really bad shape Jeff. I guess I'm thinking of what will happen if he doesn't make it... Jack growing up without his father."

"Can't my dad do something?"

"They're trying to give Hotch time to get stronger and then operate."

"Oh. I'm sorry... Was 'Hotch'... was your boss shot while on duty?"

"Um, no he was at home."

"He's the FBI guy from the news! They say the cops don't know who did it... But you guys know don't you?"

"Yeah. It was a man that we had captured awhile ago but who had escaped. He holds a grudge against Hotch because our boss won't give him what he wants."

"What does he want?"

"Power and continued freedom. But Aaron Hotchner never makes deals with murderers. He's always trying to do the right thing. He's extremely passionate about it and I admire him... he'll never take the easy road, only the right one. He'd die for those beliefs..." JJ's voice trailed off and she rapidly blinked back tears before looking out the window once again.

The younger Barton digested these words. It was clear that this agent thought a lot of her boss. It was also apparent he was a good guy. Jeffrey wanted him to survive. Normally he didn't care about adults and only half paid attention to the rare occasions when his father shared details about his patients, but this was different. Something in the way Agent Jareau had looked as she talked about 'Hotch'...

Suddenly, the final pieces of the puzzle slotted into place and Jeffrey understood: his father was being threatened because the killer didn't want the FBI agent to survive. It made him feel sick. It wasn't fair on his dad, the Fed or his kid! Before he could say anything, however, the phone rang.

"Jeff honey, could you get that please?" called Sarah Barton from the kitchen.

"Okay mom." Jeff rose from his chair and picked up the handset. "Hello?.. Hi dad... Yeah, she's right here..." he glanced over at JJ. "But dad, I need to talk to you first..."

JJ watched the teen's face. She hadn't missed the compassion that had appeared when they discussed Hotch, nor the mix of anger and determination that was there now. She listened curiously as he continued.

"Dad, please just listen to me okay? I want you to operate on Agent Hotchner... No, they didn't tell me, I figured it out. I'm not stupid you know!.. Dad, I'm totally fine! We've got the entire SWAT team out here!"

The blond agent was impressed. Although Jeff's voice betrayed his fear he had obviously inherited the surgeon's strong moral and belief systems.

"...No dad, I DO understand! I'm 16, not a child! Agent Hotchner has a kid... I can't imagine not having you around when I was growing up. This kid deserves the same... **AND** the Agent seems a really good guy...

"Please... please save him... I'll be fine..." He lowered his voice, "... You have to do the right thing, even if it's the harder choice... Please dad, do the right thing..."

JJ smiled slightly. This young man had matured well beyond his years. She hoped that Dr. Barton would get the message.

***

Dr. Barton sat in his office staring blankly at his hands, hands that were used to working miracles and saving lives. He had just gotten off the phone with Jeffrey and was incredibly proud of his son. But despite Jeff's words, Nigel still felt trapped. If he operated on the injured FBI agent, he risked the life of his only child. On the other hand, if he didn't perform the surgery then the realistic chance of Aaron Hotchner surviving was very small. He knew the agent was a good man and that he had a son of his own. The doctor's choice might have been easier had it been otherwise.

He was running out of time; he needed to make up his mind and fast. In the last half hour there had been an acceleration in the agent's decline. His oxygen saturation levels had demonstrated a rapid and significant drop. The surgeon suspected that the bullet had shifted and was impinging on one of Hotchner's coronary arteries. Already an operating room was being prepared and the patient had been moved to a 'Pre-Op' area.

The doctor looked at his hands more closely. They seemed sure and steady, in complete opposition to how he was feeling inside. His son's words rang once again through his head,

'"_Please... please save him... even if it's the harder choice... Please dad, do the right thing..."'_

His thoughts were interrupted by the loud buzz of his pager. Nigel jumped involuntarily and looked at the number.

Time was up. The agent's heart was exhibiting frequent arrhythmias and his breathing had become exceedingly short and laboured even with the ventilator. There could be no more delay.

Dr. Barton looked at the framed picture of Jeffrey sitting on the desk... and made his choice.

***

_Even had he been conscious, Hotch wouldn't have been able to __find any words to convey the immense amount of pain he was in. But he had made his choice and he wouldn't go back on his decision. And yet a big part of him wondered how much longer before the battle would end? He was fighting, if that was the correct word, trying with his entire being to cling to life. He supposed he was still alive; surely he wouldn't be able to have these thoughts otherwise? _

_He thought of his brother, the tough years they had endured together, their turbulent relationship..._

_He thought of Haley, their beautiful creation in Jack, their good times, their divorce..._

_He thought of Jack, his world and the prime motivator in his job. He remembered the first time he'd held his son, so innocent. He remembered the times he hadn't been there..._

_He thought of his team, each one with his/her strengths and weaknesses, yet each one like family to him. He knew he didn't praise them enough, didn't tell them how he felt often enough..._

'_Come on Aaron, you have to keep going! You can't waste energy on regrets!'_

_As he chastised himself for his negativity, he sensed a sudden change. Something was happening to him. The pain had somehow managed to increase, an unrelenting, intensely crushing pain in his chest that was accompanied by a feeling of suffocation._

'_This is it Aaron, the last stand. _

_Jack, please know that I love you and that I'm trying...'_

***


	6. Chapter 6

_I don't own any of the CM characters; can only wish that I did. _

**Chapter ****6**

**3**** HOURS INTO SURGERY **

Despite its attempt at cheery decor the waiting room was like a morgue. The prevailing atmosphere for the six inhabitants was one of supreme tension. Rossi had informed the team of Hotch's rush into emergency surgery and once Reid, Prentiss and Garcia had arrived both he and Prentiss had called Sean and Haley. Dave figured the family would be as safe with the BAU team at the hospital as anywhere else. At the back of his brain, Dave was also thinking that Jack might need to be taken to see his father one last time although he prayed fervently this wouldn't be the case. _'Fight, Hotch, fight!'_

Rossi's next phone had been to Morgan. The younger agent had not taken the news well; he was barely holding his temper and frustration in check and Dave was concerned that he would do something reckless.

"Derek, you've got to stay calm."

"Rossi, I've had it with waiting for this asshole and I'm tired of playing his sick game!"

"I know." said Dave soothingly, "but this is the best chance of catching Foyet that we're ever going to get. Neither you nor Hotch need a life of constantly looking over your shoulder."

Morgan grumbled. "Yeah, okay... Is Barton doing the surgery?"

There was a pause.

"Rossi??! You better tell me the doc is doing the damn operation!!!"

"Yes, he is."

"Then what's the problem?"

Rossi sighed. "I'm just not sure how much his head is in it after that note with the eye. But after three hours we've had no word so we've got to assume the best."

Pressing his fist against his temple, Morgan closed his eyes. "Keep me posted on Hotch, okay? No filtering any news!"

"Of course... Oh, and Morgan, don't forget that Foyet thinks he still has a few hours of intimidation left. This works in our favour; Nigel is doing the surgery and unavailable for more manipulation."

"Yeah, well, I'd still feel a lot better if he'd just show himself."

"You'll get your wish Morgan, I'm sure of it. So be careful and keep in touch."

***

Calmly and very deliberately, George Foyet pulled the black-hooded sweatshirt over his head. His nap had refreshed him and he felt more energized than he had in months. Putting the trophies into a back pocket of his jeans, he took time to ensure both knife and gun were easily accessible. His preparations were slow and meticulous. This was going to be big, everything needed to be perfect. And there was no reason to hurry.

The plan was deliciously simple. Agent Morgan would be first, followed by the boy. The death of the teenager would serve as insurance that the doctor would be incapable of performing Hotchner's operation. The man who had dared refuse his deal would then either die on the operating table or from multiple stab wounds inflicted by Foyet himself. The serial killer grinned maliciously. A large part of him hoped for the latter.

Picking up his black mask, the man known as the Reaper left his hotel room and sauntered nonchalantly down the street.

***

Dr. Nigel Barton tilted his head backwards and asked that his forehead be mopped down; it was the only visible sign of the stress he'd endured and the immense concentration that he'd required for the last three hours. The first hour had been the worst. Nigel couldn't get the image of that 'eye of providence' out of his head. His colleague, Dr. Steven Morrison, had almost insisted on taking over the operation. But then the star surgeon had remembered his son's words and managed to look deep within himself; he would do the right thing. He would try to save this patient's life and would trust the BAU agents to protect Jeffrey.

The doctors were performing a "MIDCAB operation"; minimally invasive bypass surgery in which an artery that usually supplies blood to the muscles of the chest is grafted to the left anterior descending artery located close to the chest wall. Compared with a more traditional bypass, the chest incision is much smaller and the heart is able to continue beating throughout the procedure although a heart-lung machine remains in control of the patient's respiration.

So far the surgery was going according to plan. Agent Hotchner's vital signs were stable; he was certainly doing his part in battling for his life. But the most dangerous part of the operation lay ahead: the point at which Aaron's heart would be slowed by drugs and the bullet would be removed. There was no margin for error since even a slight slip could nick the heart or interfere with its electrical signals and cause major bleeding or a heart attack.

"You okay, Nigel?" asked Dr. Morrison.

Dr. Barton managed a small smile behind his surgical mask. "Fine thanks. But now it's show time. How's he doing, Hugh?"

Anaesthetist Hugh Capel looked up from his position at the head of the patient. "He's hanging in there. Stable. Let's do it."

Nigel took a deep breath and as was his custom in these circumstances, said a quick prayer for his hands. "Okay, before we lower his heart rate, I need to see exactly where the bullet is lying. The last x-ray we took showed that it had moved laterally 2mm and was in contact with the right main coronary artery..."

"Rib-spreader please." Steven held out his hand to a nurse. "Suction..." And a moment later, "Darn, just as you thought, it's pressing against that arteryall right. No wonder his sat levels dropped so fast. Together with his weakened lung, he's nowhere near getting the amount of oxygen he needs."

Dr. Barton flexed his fingers and accepted a clamp from another nurse. "Prepare to drop the heart rate." He ordered.

"Delivering 5cc Bertosamil" Capel said, concomitantly adjusting the ventilation levels on the heart-lung machine.

Nigel watched the ECG monitor closely as the drug began to take effect. 100... 83... 61... 40 beats per minute and falling... "Okay ladies and gentlemen, let's earn our paycheques." he muttered.

***

Morgan awoke with a start from a fitful nap. He was instantly alert, weapon drawn. Something wasn't right, he could feel it.

"Tubbs?" he said softly, cautiously moving into a sitting position on the couch.

The apartment was dark save for a light streaming from underneath the bathroom door. Once his eyes adjusted to the dimness Derek could see Pete's gun lying on the small table next to the deck of cards. He heard the toilet flush and water running.

'Damn rookie, not taking his gun!' Morgan thought. He relaxed slightly and was about to re-holster his weapon when he noticed a tiny trickle of red coming out from underneath the door to the bathroom.

The water stopped. In three steps Morgan had reached the door and flattened himself against the corresponding wall, heart pounding. There was no time to call for back-up... if there was still help to be had; he highly doubted it. It was now just himself and Foyet. So be it.

The bathroom door opened a crack. There was a moment of silence then Morgan heard a wry chuckle.

"So we meet again Derek." said a familiar, Boston-tinged voice. "I trust you've learned a few things since our last encounter."

There was the sound of a gun's safety being removed.

"I told you I'd be bigger than Bundy."

Morgan stayed silent, still pressed against the wall. He crouched down slightly, a tiger ready to spring on its prey.

All of a sudden, and with absolutely no warning, he was doubled over and clutching at his shoulder, blood running between his fingers. His gun clattered to the floor at his feet.

George Foyet emerged from the shadow of the bathroom, masked and still pointing his silenced Magnum44 at the agent.

"Hullo Derek." He grinned behind the mask.

Morgan gritted his teeth and glared at his attacker. "You won't get away this time Foyet! This ends here!"

The Reaper laughed and held up a pair of sunglasses he'd been holding in his other hand. Morgan recognized them as belonging to Tubbs. However, instead of fear, the agent felt nothing but rage. Built-up rage from the pig-farm case, enormous rage at the shooting of his Unit Chief and now rage at the senseless killing of a young undercover officer. He didn't pause to think, simply acted.

Foyet was taken completely by surprise as Morgan lunged forward and crashed into the killer, knocking them both to the floor. The Magnum44 and sunglasses were sent flying as the two men tussled for supremacy.

Had he been one-hundred percent, Morgan would probably have subdued the other man. But in spite of his anaemia, Foyet was putting up a strong fight and unfortunately for the profiler made a sudden move which gave him the upper hand...

Morgan saw only a brief flash as light from the bathroom hit metal. The knife swooped down and found its target. Derek grunted in surprise and fresh pain; he let go of his assailant and lay face-down, breathing heavily.

Foyet used his foot to roll the agent over onto his back where he could look into the eyes of his soon-to-be next victim.

"As I told Agent Hotchner, there's no-one like me. He should have taken the deal. Nobody would have to have died. Now you're about to pay for his arrogance."

He held up the knife again, deliberating which part of Morgan's torso to stab next.

"But don't worry Derek. After I'm through here I'll make sure your boss suffers even more than you will have done. I've got a very special plan for him should he survive surgery..." Foyet checked his watch. "... this is now highly unlikely despite your attempt at using an imposter for the boy."

He crouched down on his heels, studying the man in front of him. "I thought I'd carve my trademark into his chest, nice and deep... What do you think?"

Morgan grimaced but stared defiantly back into the mask. The knife had caught him in his left side but although there was a lot of blood, Derek realized that the wound was superficial and not life-threatening. If he could prevent another blow and somehow stop the blood loss he might just be able to gain an advantage. He could see Foyet's gun laying only a couple of feet away; his own had been kicked to the other side of the room. He pretended to faint, fluttering his eyes and groaning.

"No, Agent Morgan, it's not time to sleep yet." Foyet nudged the downed agent's foot. "Don't you want to know what I'm going to leave on Hotchner's body?" he taunted.

"Nothing." mumbled Derek with exaggerated weakness. "You're too late. Agent Hotchner will be out of surgery by now and recovering in a hidden location."

Foyet started at his victim. "You're lying." He sneered. "You're just trying to buy time. I was at the hospital when the surgeon delivered that juicy tidbit of information about your boss' time frame... I know exactly when he's being operated on."

But Morgan detected the subtle hesitation and doubt in Foyet's voice. He pressed on.

"Not lying..." he spat with another false groan. "Oh, and did I mention that Doc Barton was doing the op? Quadrupled the outcome odds I'm told; he's that good."

At this, Foyet roared in a sudden outburst of anger. All his careful planning was about to go up in smoke. He leapt to his feet and turning his back on the agent, threw off his mask in frustration. It gave Morgan the split second he needed. In one motion he rolled over, snatched the Magnum44 from the floor, aimed and pulled the trigger...

*BANG!!!*

***


	7. Chapter 7

_I don't own any of the CM characters; can only wish that I did. _

**Chapter ****7 **

**3**** HOURS LATER**

The door to the waiting room opened. Six heads jerked upwards from their various poses. Only young Jack Hotchner was unaffected, continuing to weave his toy fire-truck in and out of the legs of a table.

"Just me." said Morgan. His carried his right arm in a sling to ease the pressure on his wounded shoulder.

"You come here right now!" ordered Garcia, leading him to a chair and fussing over him like a mother hen.

A sombre-looking Detective Liam Carver had followed Derek into the room. "Still no word on Agent Hotchner?"

There was a general shaking of heads.

Rossi got up and offered the detective his hand. "I'm sorry about Tubbs... how are the others?"

Carver acknowledged the comment with a slight nod and then sighed. "Both have moderate concussions. The doctors have told us not to expect them to remember anything so we may never know how Foyet took them down."

"Be glad they're alive, Liam." Dave said gently. "Most who got in Foyet's way weren't so lucky."

Carver glanced uneasily at Jack and Haley. "True..."

Meanwhile Prentiss had moved around Garcia so that she could talk to Morgan. "You okay?" she asked her dark eyes boring into his face as if daring him to lie.

Derek nodded. "All superficial, just some stitches and bruises." He paused seeing Emily's doubtful expression. "Really Emily, I'm fine. Save your concern for Hotch..."

Prentiss continued to stare at her colleague for a moment, then sighed and sat down again. Apparently satisfied that Morgan was telling the truth, she allowed her frustration to bubble to the surface. Her eyes narrowed as she asked stonily, "Okay, tell us what happened. Why didn't you call us for back-up as planned?"

"There wasn't time, Em..." started Morgan.

The scathing look he received told him he should have come up with something better than that. He went on with his explanation.

"Seriously, Prentiss. I woke up and was about ready to let Tubbs get some rest but felt something was wrong. I heard the bathroom taps going. At first I thought it was just Pete, who had forgotten his gun on the table. But then I saw the blood starting to flow from under the door and knew..."

Garcia's hand flew to her mouth but the rest of the team simply waited. Seeing their friend in front of them, knowing he was alright made the story easier to hear.

"Foyet seemed to know right where I was, crouched against the wall; I had planned on taking him out but he shot me in the shoulder first."

Rossi frowned. "How did you end up with the stab wound?"

Derek shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Ok, I admit it I got a little angry..."

Dave raised an eyebrow.

"Don't look at me like that, man! I had just lost my partner and with everything else... Anyway, I tackled him but he managed to get at his knife. That gave him the upper hand until I told him that Barton was doing Hotch's operation and that Hotch would be recovering in a hidden location. That pissed him off and he made the mistake of turning his back on me. I got his gun and the rest is history."

He looked at Detective Carver.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save young Tubbs... "

Carver nodded. "We found your ID and Agent Hotchner's tie on Foyet's body; they're evidence for now but you'll get them back eventually. Agent Morgan, do you have any idea why Tubbs let him into the apartment? We've found no evidence of forced entry and the coroner thinks that Pete died quickly; there were no signs of a struggle..."

Morgan shook his head sadly. "I tried to impress upon him how smart and dangerous Foyet was..."

The rest of his sentence was lost as the waiting room door opened again. This time eight heads swivelled around expecting Dr. Barton but instead JJ entered together with a teen-aged boy who bore a strong resemblance to the surgeon. JJ's eyes searched for Morgan and she smiled when she saw he was safe.

"Sorry it's taken us so long." she said. "It took a little while to get through all the SWAT and undercover officers, even with my credentials." Then upon noticing all the sombre faces, "Still no news on Hotch? It's been over 6 hours!"

The worry in the room was palpable. JJ changed the subject. "Foyet's really dead?"

"Yeah Jay, no more victims." Reid assured the blond. "Morgan shot him through the heart."

"Can't say that I'm sorry the bastard didn't live to face trial." JJ muttered. She turned to where Jack was still playing quietly with his toy trucks. "Hey Jack."

Jack looked up and smiled. "Hi Auntie JJ."

JJ's heart melted. She wished she were still so innocent to the horrors of the world. She was about to say something further to him but Jeff had gone over and sat down next to the youngster. The two were soon engrossed in a toy car chase.

"Jeff wanted to meet us all, but especially Jack." she explained when Morgan looked questioningly at her.

"I also wanted to thank you for helping my dad... and saving me." Jeff said shyly. "I thought maybe I could keep Jack occupied..."

The adults all smiled. With Foyet dead, one father and son would soon be reunited. They all hoped desperately that the same would hold true for their Unit Chief.

***

By the time the door to the waiting room opened for a third time, it was 3:30am but nobody had gone home. All eyes moved to the man in the doorway.

A thoroughly exhausted-looking Nigel Barton moved into the room. He was still wearing his scrubs, dotted with the blood of his patient. His surgical mask hung around his neck.

"Dad!" exclaimed Jeffrey. In typical teenager fashion, he avoided physical contact with his father but gave him a big grin.

The doctor smiled in weary relief at seeing his son. He wanted to go to hug Jeff but knew that would have to wait temporarily; these people had been kept waiting long enough and he understood how anxious they were.

"Aaron is still in recovery," he began, "but the operation went well."

Garcia couldn't contain herself. "Oh thank God!"

She wasn't alone. The relief was obvious. Sean held his head in his hands, overwhelmed. Haley looked down into the sleeping face of Jack on her lap and closed her eyes in prayer. Her son still had his father. The others relaxed slightly but waited for more details on their boss' prognosis.

"We were able to use a less invasive "off pump" bypass surgery which meant that Agent Hotchner's heart remained beating throughout the procedure." Dr. Barton explained. "Given his recent crashes, this was the best thing we could have hoped for... This type of operation also reduces the risks for several complications of bypass surgery like stroke or neurological injury.

"Nevertheless, it will be at least 24-36 hours before Aaron will be stable and out of the woods. We're transferring him now into the Cardiac Intensive Care Unit, where he'll remain until his vital signs are stronger."

Reid was watching the doctor's face carefully. "But you think he'll be okay? The survival statistics..."

"Reid, let the man finish." Morgan interrupted, not wanting to hear the odds of Hotch being okay. "Please doc, go on."

"The man is one tough customer. He really fought for his life in there and I won't lie, it was definitely touch and go at times. But now that the bullet has been removed your boss is already showing signs of improvement. His heart is beating in regular rhythm again and his oxygen saturation levels have increased. I'm very hopeful that there will be no permanent damage and Aaron will make a complete recovery."

Sean raised his head. "I don't know how to thank you for saving my brother..." he said softly.

Dr. Barton looked at Jack, still sleeping on his mother's lap. Next he looked at Jeffrey.

"No thanks necessary. Every son needs his father..." he paused and exchanged a knowing glance with Dave. "...and every father needs his son."

Rossi smiled slightly and inclined his head.

"Can we see him?" Prentiss asked.

The surgeon hesitated. "I can get you as close as a CICU window but no visitors until the agent is moved to a regular room..."

"We'll take it." Morgan said firmly.

***

**CICU**

The patient felt extremely groggy and disoriented as he regained semi-consciousness. Gradually, through the haze he heard the steady beeping of a cardiac monitor and the hissing of a ventilator. He could feel the bulk of a tube down his throat and knew himself to be in intensive care.

Hotch tried to open his eyes but it was too much effort so he gave up. Normally these things would be cause for alarm yet he felt strangely calm. After all, he was aware of the only thing that mattered: he was alive. He had won. He would see his son again. And Foyet hadn't succeeded.

Hotch drifted back into darkness, fully prepared to face what he anticipated would be a long and painful road to recovery.

***

They looked like visitors to a zoo, all jostling with each other to peer through the glass and get a glimpse of the man who had beaten the odds.

Dr. Barton had warned them that Hotch remained intubated and would have a good number of wires attached to his chest in-between the extensive bandaging. But it was still heart breaking to see the usually stalwart Unit Chief with his hands strapped to the bed so that he was unable to disconnect any of the monitoring devices while he slept. They watched as a nurse measured his pulse, breathing and temperature for the second time in 15 minutes.

"Is it normal for such frequent observation?" asked JJ, alarmed.

The surgeon nodded his head in affirmation. "Agent Hotchner has endured a major operation around his heart. If he is going to develop complications it is normally in the first hours following surgery. And don't forget that the initial gunshot injury to his lung hasn't healed fully. "

The team had forgotten. It had been easy to overlook the punctured lung with concern focussed on the final resting place of the bullet against the profiler's heart. As they continued their vigil one of Hotch's hands twitched violently against the restraint and his head moved slightly.

"Is he in a lot of pain?" Haley's eyes were wet with tears. She had left Jack in the care of one of the nurses; he didn't need to see his father this way.

Dr. Barton looked at her kindly. "At the moment we've got him on a very strong course of antibiotics and pain medication. He'll be pretty out of it for the next couple of days."

The ex-Mrs. Hotchner sighed with relief. She didn't want Aaron to suffer. Taking a last look at the patient, she touched JJ's arm briefly then left to collect Jack and head home. She couldn't do anything more here and wanted Jack to be rested so that he could visit his father as soon as the doctors permitted.

Dave went to stand next to the doctor. "Hotch is still in for a rough ride, isn't he?" he said under his breath.

Nigel's expression confirmed this suspicion.

"The area around the incision will be bruised and quite sore." The doctor said in a low voice. "But the worst will be the chest pain. It isn't heart-related, but we had to cut through the thick chest muscles to get at both Aaron's heart and lung... physiotherapy won't be pleasant...

"But having already witnessed his iron will and having seen the support he'll receive from family and friends, I have no doubt he'll be just fine."

"Thank you Nigel." Rossi said sincerely as Jeffrey came to stand on his father's other side.

The doctor put his arm around the teen. "You're very welcome. It was the least I could do... like I said, every father needs his son."

"I'm proud of you dad." Jeff whispered.

Rossi smiled as the pair walked quietly down the corridor. He turned to look again through the window. _'And I'm proud of you, Aaron. Thank you for coming back to me, to all of us. We'll get you through this, I promise.'_

*******

**2 DAYS LATER**

The fog surrounding Hotch's brain began to clear and he became more aware of his surroundings: there was a distinct lack of sound except for what must be a heart rate monitor; he could no longer feel any obstruction in his throat although there was a steady stream of oxygen coming into his body via a small hose in his nose; and he felt an unfamiliar weight on his outstretched right arm.

'_I'm out of the ICU.' _he thought in relief.

When Aaron slowly opened his eyes, he saw the large collection of flowers and cards in his line of vision. One card in particular caught his attention. It was big and colourful, done in crayon. Two stick figures, a tall one with a tie and a smaller one wearing a baseball cap held hands under a sun-filled sky.

Jack.

Suddenly, the weight on his arm moved slightly. Hotch painfully eased his head around and tears came to his eyes when he saw the tuft of blond hair; during his fight for life it was a sight he figured he might never have again. He could then feel the small hand resting on his stomach and hear the sound of a child's steady breathing.

Aaron shifted so that he could carefully wrap his left arm around the small body. The contraction of his chest muscles was excruciating but he didn't care. It was worth it just to hold his son in his arms again.

He leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on top of Jack's head, not wanting to wake the youngster. Then, gently pulling his boy closer, Hotch closed his eyes and allowed himself to sleep again, the loving smile of a parent visible on his lips.

He had made the right choice.

*THE END*

_**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed this story; I really appreciate all of your support! You're the best! I hope you liked the final chappie; please let me know. Thanks! :)  
**_

_**I'm posting this on the "one month to go before the CM season premiere" date... Sept 23rd still seems so far away... *sigh* Have a great month!**_


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